


Modern AU scene №2

by InvidiaSaunder



Category: DOOM - Fandom, Doom Eternal - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal enema, Dominance, Fisting, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Verbal Humiliation, Vine enema, Voyeurism, vine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvidiaSaunder/pseuds/InvidiaSaunder
Summary: Modern AUThe invasion was successful.  For demons, who are much more intelligent here and even able to coexist with people.  Only, in this new world, people have practically no rights, they are at the very bottom of the hierarchical system, where the strongest survive.  Most of humanity is forced to work for demons, either becoming a labor force or providing sexual services.  Maykrs in this world occupy the upper levels and live in isolated closed cities, where all the capital of the planet flows.  The clan way of life is flourishing, and there are constant clashes between individual groups.  The Slayer is not the Slayer here, but Flynn Taggart, an ordinary person who was born a couple of years before the invasion and sharply hates this whole system of violence and corruption.  The Marauder is a hybrid holding a leading position in the Corporation, aimed at arming and erasing the human race as a species through the assimilation of people who have taken on demonic masters.  And there is also an allegory to Nekravol.Directions: Dark, Omegavers, Mafia, BDSM, Violence.
Relationships: Marauder / Doom Slayer, Marauder / Doomguy, Marauder / Flynn Taggart
Comments: 8
Kudos: 4





	Modern AU scene №2

What is the recipe for a good evening after a long day of work?

Perhaps this is a joint trip to the nearest hookah bar with its heady haze, inside which the owners are scurrying about in long silk clothes and with the same ingratiating smiles on their faces. A leisurely walk in specially designated places in order to amuse yourself with an imaginary abstraction from the bustle of the city, while not endangering your life from the poor strata of the population, who already exist a few blocks from the central part? Another of many visits to an already familiar underground bar for an intimate conversation with the gloomy owner and a few piles of something strong enough to long-awaited forgetting of countless daily problems?

Or lazy watching as the concubine is fucking himself.

A barely noticeable spasm slips over someone else's face, and the demon shakes his head, mentally correcting himself. Not a concubine, no. Lover. Too sweetly, this ridiculous creature blinked, receiving undisguised pleasure from what was happening. An impressive result of several long months of painstaking work on a stubborn and independent mind. Not constrained by the framework of human morality, he received undisguised pleasure from the visual evidence of the training conducted, even if it caused echoes of fear in the eyes of casual eyewitnesses, even from his own race. About my own. I don't care, the closest in the hierarchical class - the fallen man throws his head back, squeaking his fangs in annoyance, swallowing a new portion of the ruby liquid - The world has always been cruel to the defective hybrid, so why should he now regret such behavior on his part?

A quiet, almost plaintive groan sounds very opportune and completely drives away unpleasant thoughts. Distracted from the contemplation of the drops flowing down the glass, the Marauder raises his relaxed gaze back up and with obvious curiosity notices how alive and much healthier than his own body trembles finely, pushing almost a whole brush into itself. Such greed, and eyes burning with excitement - this is what attracted to itself from the very first meeting, provoking the most ancient and primitive instincts of a predator, which was inside everyone, even an unclean demon. The Argent flowing through his veins overshadowed the voice of sober reason, calling to take, break and conquer oneself, and a characteristic feature of a person turned out to be fatal for him. Tiny drops of sweat run down the tanned skin, and the demon realizes - for a few more minutes at a similar pace, he will allow himself to lick those with an unnaturally long tongue before rising higher and pushing it into the narrow human throat. A crazy thought gives off a familiar heat in the groin, forcing the legs to be imposingly spread in order to somehow ease the natural pressure on the tissue. It's not time yet. And finding out the limits of one's own self-control has always remained curious.

The glass is tilted a few degrees lower than the generally accepted one, and the thin edge of the glass with a quiet clink knocks against the pointed fangs - another forced skill that had to be learned in the very first days after the transformation, so as not to lap like a completely unreasonable animal. The skill, even if it entailed a price from a solid heap of soiled in scarlet linen, especially played into the hands now, allowing not to be distracted from what was happening, and the demon in a contented gesture props his head with his free hand, with a glance pointing to lower the thin bodice below. Another habit that has become almost a distinctive feature is that heavy horns every second unmercifully pressed on the neck, forcing to seriously think about the collar supporting the spine. On the other hand, the lover was clearly not opposed to such a contrast, and often it was enough to just slightly raise him higher than usual to make him look at the floor immediately.

Somewhere on the periphery of consciousness, an outraged groan sounds, and the fallen one chases away his thoughts, sincerely trying to focus on the private show. The eternally cold mind begins to slowly but surely swim under the influence of strong alcohol, and it becomes more difficult to maintain the correct focus.

The scarlet gaze absent-mindedly follows the grace with which the once awkward person moves, that now he has completely surrendered himself to a laudable desire to please. And even if the old street life was still traced in rare curses through gritted teeth, when his own fingers touched a sensitive point inside too well, in unruly hair that stubbornly defies any care products, and in rough facial features, in all other respects this amazing creature is no longer resembled his former self, what was his, and only his merit.Muscular arms, created to punch their way in spite of the fate set by the System, now easily and even gracefully glided along the curves of their own body, adorned with impeccable manicure on fingers forever knocked down in the knuckles. Thin lips, once bitten and chapped, were now adorned with expensive, vulgar-looking lipstick, creating a contrast so sweet in its utter irregularity with a still very, very masculine appearance. Having overcome the fear and shame, the man smoothly moved in front of the disfigured face, then spreading his legs for a better view, then turning to the side to allow him to appreciate the rounded line of trembling buttocks, thereby, as if paying tribute to the work done on himself. Even if she was violent. Dishonest. Undeserved. The demon chuckles, remembering the first changes in this lean and clumsy body that were greeted with mute delight on the part of one and absolute horror on the other. Anyway, who said he wasn't going to use dirty methods to get things done?

\- Has my Master lost interest?

The voice, interrupted by hours of masturbation, sounds indignant and almost pitiful, and its owner is displeased with his shoulders, forcing the thin tissue to fly off completely. A gesture, undoubtedly aimed at attracting the again lost attention to oneself, but the only reaction is only a glance absentmindedly sliding across the face and the booming sound of a cork pulled out by a claw, when the empty vessel is replaced by a new one, covered with dust and threateningly full inside. In the bright eyes opposite, frank panic flashes before a few more hours of swotting to please the boss, who noticeably went overboard, however, it quickly disappears under the influence of his characteristic stubbornness, even if it steadily led to situations that he also consistently regretted later on.

\- Mm? ...

Not considering it necessary to respond to the detached voice from the fallen, the person frowns with even greater displeasure, and suddenly stretches his swollen lips in a cheeky smile, before passing two fingers through those at once. The wet sound with which they penetrated from only the tips to the very throat finally attracts the attention of the Marauder, and the latter watches with fascination as with each such movement a new trickle of saliva flowed down his chin, dripping loudly onto his bare and heavily heaving chest. The temptation to follow her path with his tongue becomes unbearably great - squeezing the cold glass a little tighter in his numb hand, the demon leans forward and squints his eyes, closely watching the suspiciously gambling actions. Flynn, it would seem, on the contrary, completely surrendered to his plan, alternately pulling the nipples noticeably reddened from such treatment with his free hand, slashing his tongue between slippery fingers, then along the entire length of the palm, and this dirty, frank parody of a blowjob makes blood rush to face, and expensive fabric - to stretch almost to painful, fully betraying the significant interest of its owner. The diligently greased hand finally leaves the mouth, stained with stains from the former lipstick, and immediately penetrates sharply into the stretched hole up to the wrist, since the prolonged game relaxed the once tight muscles, allowing you to do even more without the expected pain. The reaction does not take long - squeezing the glass tighter, the hybrid noisily inhales the air through the mutilated nose and leans back to the chair, glaring hungrily at exactly between the slender legs apart, somewhere it disappeared, then a brush wet with saliva reappeared, knocking out everything new and new moans, or even obscene cries from the side of their owner. The barely audible ringing of glass squeezed in an overly strong grip passes by attention, not catching up with a successful provocation, and the mechanic who got his job sobbed loudly from a hand ramming a narrow passage, jumping on that one with such zeal that the unfortunate furniture began to shake. A burning flame directed at him - at last, at him! - glances, claws nervously scratching the expensive upholstery, loosening the pressure of the belt, a quiet hungry growl - here it is, the result of yet another stubbornness, the only feature that was common to both of them. Whether human or demon, they both got what they wanted, even if it meant playing unfairly.

\- God .. uhh .. Master!  
The deafening squabble of broken glass makes both shudder, and an awkward silence hangs in the office, interrupted only by the soft sound of drops falling from a pale hand to the floor.

\- Well, well ... Look what you've done. - For some reason, the quiet and pensive voice of the demon sounds even more terrible than open aggression, and Flynn involuntarily tenses up, watching as the interlocutor slowly wiped his hands soiled in godlessly spilled wine. A spot of liquid spreading over the once clean floor, whose cost was many times higher than the culprit of the incident himself, looks like a real monument to blasphemy: - And from what should I drink now, dear?

Confused by such a question, the mechanic hums something inarticulate and shrugs his shoulders uncertainly, bewildered by an unpredictable reaction. A noticeable bulge on other people's pants speaks more clearly than words about the achievement of the previously desired arousal, and, taking the question for the continuation of a mutual game, Taggart quietly giggles and deliberately slowly licks his swollen lips, already bright from lipstick. But the demon was in no hurry to get rid of his clothes, carefully examining the purple stains on his own palm. Broken fragments fell to the floor with a melodic clink.

\- There are others in the service, besides, it is just a glass ...

\- Bad girl.

The eyes, once clouded by the veil of alcohol, flare up with a bad fire, and the demon abruptly rises from his favorite chair, in one quick step overcoming the only distance that kept the body from living and subject to him alone. The boy has finished badly. Or is it the drunk nectar that drowns out the already quiet voice of the former human reason? Not wanting to understand the reasons, the hybrid squeezes other people's legs under the knees and easily throws those on his shoulders, forcing the previously removed fabric to lift up to the very neck, heartlessly opening every bend under gaze. Obviously not expecting anything like this, the mechanic trembles treacherously, as soon as he sees an absolutely sober and conscious look in front of him. Is he really in no eye? ...

\- And you have to solve it somehow.

The idiotic offer to buy a new set remains unspoken, giving way to a frightened sob. Sensitive to the vulnerable after the experienced orgasm, the body twitches from the touch of clawed fingers, squeezing the carefully eaten meat into deep folds up to bright traces, but only the feeling of something cold, alien between the legs apart makes it completely freeze, slowly guessing the meaning of other people's actions. Grinning from the awareness of what was happening flashed in his bright eyes, the hybrid pressed harder, centimeter by centimeter pushing the narrow throat of the barely opened bottle into the convulsively compressed passageway, before sharply lifting it by the wide bottom, forcing alcohol to flow profusely into the hot and trembling interior. The whining that followed could not but rejoice.  
The tart liquid easily overcame the resistance of the stretched walls, filling more and more from the inside with each passing moment. At first, this sensation could be called unusual, then - uncomfortable, and the next minute the person breaks down into a plaintive groan, more like a convulsive sob. Obviously not adapted to anything like this, the intestines pressed with their weight, forcing the skin, moist from sperm and sweat, to stretch, and every fleeting movement was difficult: Swallowing tears profusely flowing down his face, Taggart still continued to make unsuccessful attempts to escape, even if the stomach was artificially filled with extraneous moisture did not even allow one to rise above the stained surface of the table. Not to mention the hand firmly holding under the knee, the sharp claws of which reliably protected from a well-deserved kick in the chest.

“Although, you know, I've already found a solution to this problem, my little one. - A wide smile, more reminiscent of a grin, makes you tense even more, but the cool glass immediately touches the responsive accumulation of nerve endings, and it turns out to be impossible not to groan in your voice. Heard through his own whining provokes a new, at the same time frightened and thirsty sob: - You will serve me as a vessel.

A sweet spasm treacherously reduces limbs exhausted by a long tension, and a person finds the strength only to cling to the surface of the table with painted nails and immediately break into a cry when the narrow throat jerkly leaves the filled passageway, and the long, slippery tongue, like a tentacle, with ease penetrates the stretched body. Teasingly stroking the wet walls, the demon only slightly touches the sensitive lump with the very tip of the flexible flesh, but even this fleeting touch provokes a new groan, which turns into a full-fledged cry. Tired, overly responsive after several discharges, shackled by internal weight, the lover could only wriggle helplessly on a plane warmed by his own warmth, then pressing his knees on other people's shoulders, then on the contrary trying to pull them higher to his chest in order to somehow escape from this unbearable heat. A cool palm on its own belly with a deceptively soothing caress strokes only a few swiftly flashed seconds before pressing with all the meanness characteristic of a demonic race, forcing the crimson liquid with an obscene splash from the filled intestines and splashing out into the greedy mouth, the sharp fangs of which pressed in a silent warning on the delicate skin around. The half-forgotten shame returns with renewed vigor, giving thrill to the already non-standard practice, and Taggart blushes shamelessly from each escaping cry, mixed with the wet sounds of a hybrid swallowing wine, which, under pressure, rapidly poured out of his own hole.

The lingering cacophony of joint groans, growls and splashes of liquid flowing to the floor is interrupted by a timid knock on the door, followed by the appearance of one of the lowest employees of the corporation, apparently to report on the past quarter. However, the young demon still freezes in the aisle, one had only to see how the hybrid licked his lips, slowly turning towards the newcomer. Crimson stains on the face are complemented by the uterine, frankly feline purring, and followed by quiet laughter when an involuntary witness leaves the room in panic, daring only to quickly put a pile of crumpled papers on the table.

Yes, it was a pretty good evening.


End file.
